Condemned
by Starzangel
Summary: Missing scenes for TCOTBP Isla de Muerta, the Island of Death, has been left behind by H.M.S. Dauntless. But not all aboard her are looking forward to reaching Port Royal. Angst. Mainly focused on Jack. COMPLETE
1. Imprisoned: One Last Shot

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Title: Condemned

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Author: Starzangel

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Disclaimer: Unfortunately for me, none of _Pirates of the Caribbean_ is mine. I only borrowed the concept and characters to have fun (but gain no profit) writing this story, which _is_ mine.

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Archive: If you're not FanFiction.Net, then please ask first via submitting a review (leave your email address & I'll get back to you – and most probably say "Aye!").

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Pirates of the Caribbean:

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Condemned

by

Starzangel

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1.

Imprisoned

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One Last Shot

The narrow gash across his left palm itched and ached under the congealed blood. He absentmindedly flexed his hand in an attempt to get rid of the irritation. The movement broke open the wound again, bringing a wince to his face and his charcoal-lined eyes to the fresh liquid dribbling out.

He peered at the cut in the dim light, noting with a grimace that it was none too clean. With the fingers of his other hand he rubbed at the dirt and dried blood, succeeding only in aggravating the stinging laceration. A half-hearted glance showed that, unsurprisingly, the brig of His Majesty's Ship_ Dauntless_ had nothing to offer to clean it with.

He sighed and dropped his arms to rest on his knees again, his eyes staring unseeingly at the floor. He'd just have to hope heat and infection didn't set into the wound. Like he had to hope he would be able to make a miraculous escape from the noose at least once more.

The air was uncomfortable on his lungs, being thin, cold and smelling strongly of tar. However, he sat on dry floorboards with his back against the rust-free cell bars of Norrington's flagship - Norrington's _only_ ship, since Barbossa had sunk the _Interceptor_. Though, of course, the Commodore was sure to be given a replacement. Especially after bringing back the remaining living pirates of the cursed ship, the feared _Black Pearl_, that had preyed mercilessly on ships and settlements for the past ten years. Yet, the Navy didn't have said ship in its righteous grasp. Said ship, which belonged to Captain Jack Sparrow, was no longer cursed and currently sailed free somewhere on the crystalline waters of the Caribbean…without him.

Trapped. Jack Sparrow hated being trapped. There wasn't even a crack in the hull for him to look though. Miserably and resignedly, he shut his eyes and let the familiar rocking motion of the ship soothe him. He tried to forget he was imprisoned on a Royal Navy vessel that was happily racing across the Caribbean to deliver him to the hands of Death. After all, if that was what the Fates wanted, even Captain Jack Sparrow couldn't do anything about it.

He'd been able to kill Barbossa - the mutinous first mate who'd been the reason he'd carried around a single shot in his pistol for ten years - for which he was grateful. Revenge and justice were his at last. Firing that shot into Barbossa's cold, black heart had relieved him of a great emotional burden, which had been so heavy it felt as if a physical weight had been lifted from him. Jack had watched his betrayer die; watched the blood pool from his chest. The finality of it was bittersweet - it was over at last, but the past wasn't changed. Captain Jack Sparrow was left exhausted and as emotionless as the curse had rendered him physically numb.

Then had come the blow that his ship was gone. Ok, so it could be said that he'd technically fallen behind, but he had caught up. Couldn't they have checked before leaving him? But that was an irrational suggestion. His crew had done what was right by them, what pirates abiding by the Pirates' Code did. He shouldn't expect any more of them.

Captain Jack Sparrow was a pirate and, as well as enjoying the perks, he had to suffer the consequences. He had always known his dance with Death would end one day. His footwork was quick and skilled, remarkably better than most, however, there were still times when he stumbled. He'd always managed to get back up before, but one day he'd fall and that would be it. The music would stop.

Surely, that time hadn't come yet? There were still so many things he wanted to achieve, the _Pearl_ and his freedom for starters.

Anamaria, Gibbs and the rest of the crew, maybe they would have a change of heart and… No. They had no reason to and many not to. The _Interceptor_ had blown enough holes in the _Black Pearl _for a confrontation with the pride of the Royal Navy to be a pretty bad idea. They had a fine ship and the freedom of the seven seas. Nothing tied them to him.

If Captain Jack Sparrow were to escape, it would be by his own means. He could do nothing but wait for the opportune moment that might never come.


	2. Visited: No Heroes Amongst Thieves

AN: Thank you for your reviews!

Rat, in response to your question, I think Jack believed he'd accepted that the fates might not be on his side this time and didn't expect anyone to try to save him. However, this leads me on to Miss Becky's review and to comment on another of Jack's expressions during the film. When the gallows' trapdoor opened beneath him and he fell, his eyes widened with fright and shock (_aaw!_). So, perhaps he wasn't as ready to face Death as he'd thought.

Civeta, Morph and Katherine Dark, thanks for your encouragement.

Jackfan2, in regards to Will, that was my thought exactly! (Hence the following scene!)

I hope you all like this next scene!

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2.

Visited

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No Heroes Amongst Thieves

Unfortunately for Captain Jack Sparrow, he had to share the _Dauntless_'s brig with certain pirates who weren't exactly fond of him. Once these scallywags had been loyal to him, but that had been a very long time ago. Fortunately, he was alone in his cell, away from the cells containing the others. The shock of the curse lifting and being captured had blessedly left the mutinous pirates rather subdued, so they didn't disturb Jack's gloomily wandering thoughts or prevent sleep from creeping up on his weary body.

Under his grimy white shirt, Jack's chest rose and fell in a deep and regular pattern. His head slipped to one side. Dark brown eyes moved in response to his dreams under closed eyelids and his face was stripped by calm, giving him the look of childlike, peaceful innocence.

The brig's wooden door creaked open and quiet footsteps sounded on the deck. Jack's eyes snapped open and stared through the dark in the direction of the noise.

A slender figure hesitated in front of the cells, raising an oil lamp turned down dim to peer into them. The faint yellow light illuminated the familiar face of a young blacksmith.

"Looking for anyone in particular, lad?" Jack asked, the lamp catching his usual amused grin, as Will Turner moved towards the sound of his voice.

"Jack," Will greeted in a hushed tone, smiling faintly.

The pirate captain glanced at the door and then returned his gaze accompanied with a frown. "The guards?"

Will shifted uncomfortably. "They're…indisposed at the moment."

"Ah."

"I can't stay long," Will said, hurriedly. "Governor Swann has granted me clemency, but if I'm caught here…"

"Then you shouldn't have come at all, lad. Not worth you hanging."

Will ignored him. "How's your hand?"

"What? Oh. I've had worse."

"If it's anything like mine, you'll be wanted some wine and cloth to clean it."

Mumbling his thanks, Jack accepted the almost empty bottle and shreds of white material that Will passed through the bars to him.

"Have you spoken to your bonny lass?" Jack asked, as the lad held the lamp up against the bars to give him light to see by. He winced as he wiped an alcohol-soaked cloth over his cut palm.

"No," Will admitted, quietly, heartache and sorrow evident in his tone.

"Well, if the opportune moment so happens to come along again, this time have the sense to take it."

"Elizabeth is engaged to be married," Will said, his voice almost breaking, "to a man who is better fitting her status."

"Perhaps. But it's not Norrington she's in love with, now is it?"

"I don't know…"

Jack gave the younger man a withering look. Will's pained and confused expression became more pained and confused.

The pirate sighed. "If you can't see it, mate…"

Jack wrapped a long piece of cloth around his wounded hand and tied it with the help of his teeth. He then picked up the wine bottle again and swallowed the mouthful that remained.

"Jack, what are you going to do?" Will asked, watching the imprisoned pirate captain with concern.

"I don't follow ya, mate." Jack knelt to pick up the scraps of material.

"When we reach Port Royal, what will you do?"

"I believe I have an appointment with the gallows," the pirate answered, rising and handing Will the empty bottle and cloths through the bars.

"You mean you won't even try to escape?" Will stared in surprise and horror.

"If the chance arises, I shall take it, have no doubt," Jack told him, leaning against the bars. "If it doesn't…I guess this is the end of the adventures of Captain Jack Sparrow."

"Jack…"

"Don't worry about me, lad. I'm a black-hearted, good-for-nothing pirate, remember?"

The young blacksmith stared at Jack's lopsided grin with amazement and frowned.

"You're a good man, Jack."

"That makes no difference to the Crown or the noose," Jack stated, matter-of-factly, though his dark eyes showed a hint of Will's words having touched him. "You'd best be getting back, before the guards find you here." He moved away from the bars and sat down in the shadows at the back of his cell.

Will hovered for a moment, but the sound of a thud from the deck above made up his mind. He cast one last look into the pirate's cell, barely able to make out the man in the gloom. "Goodbye, Jack." He left without waiting for a response, slipping silently out of the door.

Alone in the darkness, Captain Jack Sparrow sighed heavily and closed his eyes again. He escaped into dreams of black sails filled by the wind, blue waves glinting in the sun and endless horizons… Freedom.


	3. Watched: He's A Pirate

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Author's Note 1: 

Thanks to everyone who has reviewed!

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Jackfan2, thank you very much for the reviews you've given my stories. I'm not sure that words can fully express my gratitude. Reading them made me feel literally dizzy with happiness! I hope you continue to enjoy my writing, as knowing someone likes them so much is the best encouragement possible. Thank you! I really enjoyed your first chapter of 'Shelter in the Storm' and look forward to the next. I promise to find the time to read your second story as soon as I can, and by all means recommend mine - I'd be greatly honoured!

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Suzy-400 and **Freckled raven**, thanks for your encouragement!

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Miss Becky, yay! that is exactly how I hoped it would come across!

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Marie, yep! Elizabeth's perspective was what I intended to use for this next scene. It's set slightly earlier, though. I hope you still like it.

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AN 2: 

This was going to be the last part to this collection of missing scenes. However, Jackfan2 has given me the inspiration for a forth. If all goes well, it'll be up in a few days.

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3.

Watched

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He's A Pirate

Across the calm green-blue sea the sun was low on the horizon and darkness was slowly creeping up on Port Royal from the mainland. On the docks, Elizabeth Swann stood at her fiancé's side watching the prisoners being escorted off H.M.S. _Dauntless_.

The commodore had assigned a high number of his most competent guards to the task, not wanting to risk any one of the pirates escaping. Elizabeth was aware of his anxious glances out to sea, as if he expected the dreaded galleon with black sails to appear at any moment. These nervous looks were always followed by a scan of the gathering crowd of townsfolk, due to fear that Sparrow's crew was already there and hid among them.

Last of all, the pirate captain who caused Commodore Norrington so much anxiety was brought up from below and swiftly taken off the ship and onto the pier. Elizabeth's chest constricted at the sight. She had tried to the extreme point of teary-eyed pleading with her father to get him to let Jack go free. She had only finally stopped when he had become so frustrated and irritated she feared he would revoke Will's clemency. Jack Sparrow had a lifetime's worth of crime, which the Law would not let them ignore even if they wanted to. The scoundrel had even threatened her life, which Elizabeth would do well to remember. Now that she had suffered at the hands of a whole crew of pirates, surely she would lose these fantastical and childish ideas about them.

"Vile and dissolute creatures, the lot of them," Norrington had told her, eight years ago on the crossing from England, when she was a girl of twelve and he a lieutenant.

However, he had been wrong. Barbossa and his crew fit the description perfectly, but Jack broke the rule. He was a pirate, but he wasn't a bad person.

She knew more than Jack would perhaps want her to know on hindsight, after that night on the island beach where liquor and impending doom had loosened his tongue. Sure, the infamous captain often had a little too much to say for himself at the worst possible moments, but always with bravado and never from the heart. While they were marooned, he'd confided in her his true reasons.

Freedom, all the man wanted was freedom. The sparrow didn't want to be caged; he needed to fly.

She remembered the _Black Pearl_'s figurehead of a woman holding a bird out as if to set it free, which she suddenly realised was so fitting that she found herself wondering about the mysterious past of Jack's ship. Elizabeth's gaze wandered out to the horizon, hoping to draw the _Pearl_ into appearance through sheer will and imagination.

With a sigh, Elizabeth turned her eyes from the still empty waves and watched the captured pirate captain being led along the pier. He was surrounded by Navy officers with their bayonets fixed, his wrists clasped in irons and two men holding him tightly by the shoulders. His walk was steady and even, instead of his customary sway, but he still carried himself straight with his usual pride. Only a deep look into his soulful eyes gave any true sign of his hatred and fear of being trapped.

Elizabeth felt as trapped as Jack was. Trapped in a marriage to a man she didn't love. James Norrington had kindness, wealth and status, sure enough. But he could never have her heart, for it already belonged to Will Turner.

Throughout the voyage back to Port Royal, she had felt as if she were in limbo; caught between her previous life of hopeful fancies and her heartbreaking future. How could she feel so much for someone who it appeared didn't return her affection with equal strength? Once she had thought Will loved her, but then he had been so accepting of her engagement to Commodore Norrington. Was it not breaking his heart as much as it was hers? Heaven have mercy, she had only agreed to the marriage to save Will's life!

Since leaving the pirates' cave, her determination to avoid Will had only been matched by his determination to avoid her. It hurt terribly to think of him and seeing him increased the pain a hundred-fold.

She had allowed herself to be fooled by the excitement of rescuing each other, believing that there was no way for it to end but with them finally getting together. Unless they were both killed, of course. She had never even considered it ending with such uncertainty, confusion and endless heartache.

Commodore Norrington moved to follow the procession heading for the fort jail, barking orders for the curious crowd to be kept back, and Elizabeth walked quietly at his side. Her eyes found Jack again. A torrent of feeling rushed through her, which was voiced in her mind as a repeated scream of "This is wrong!". However, she remained silent and outwardly composed. Jack had chosen the life of a pirate, she reminded herself, and had been well aware of what he was getting himself in for. He had many more crimes to his name than he had years.

There was nothing Elizabeth could do.

It was time to accept that she had lost Will, if she had ever really had him, and their pirate adventure was over. In the moonlit courtyard of the fort, the noose waited to deliver a short drop and a sudden stop to the last link they had to their love-driven escapade. Tomorrow it would end.

They had escaped from Isla de Muerte, the Island of Death, but for Captain Jack Sparrow Port Royal also meant death.


	4. Last Breaths: I Had A Dream About You La...

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AN:

Thanks for the reviews.

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Jackfan2, this isn't the dream you suggested. Though I really liked your idea and it was the initial inspiration, my muse then went off on a tangent and left it somewhere behind. However, the setting of the story remains the same and Bootstrap does make a brief appearance in the dream. Thank you for your idea! Although, it hasn't turned out quite as it should have...sorry!

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Miss Becky, hope this is worth the wait. I had fun writing it, so fingers crossed that you'll have fun reading it!

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Marie, I'm glad you liked the last chapter. I hope you enjoy this one too!

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Rat, hopefully this will answer all your questions.

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4.

Last Breaths

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I Had A Dream About You Last Night

Jack had a window again. For that small mercy, he was grateful. However, for the rain that drenched Port Royal and drove away every last lingering fragment of the day's warmth, he wasn't quite so appreciative. He huddled shivering in the corner furthest from the window and watched the water dribble over the stone ledge and slowly form a pool on the cell's floor. The metal bars dug into his back and the thin layer of straw did little in the ways of a cushion.

While free, Captain Jack Sparrow wasn't unfamiliar with sleeping in places not designed for the sleeper's comfort, if they were even for that purpose at all. However, in these situations he was normally filled with warm rum and his senses numbed to the extent that he didn't even know that he was lying in a ditch or suchlike.

The pirate captain was better acquainted with prisons than he wished to be. He had been in this same fort jail not so long ago. The door hinges had been changed and the hole the cursed _Black Pearl_ had blasted into the wall had been bricked up, but apart from that everything was the same. Damnably, boringly the same, leaving him with little to do but ponder his approaching death, which wasn't exactly the most cheery thing to be doing.

Instead, Jack's tired thoughts wandered longingly to find the place where he had last seen his coat and hat, items he was currently in desperate want of. Sleep was upon him before he even realised that he had shut his eyes.

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A wicker cradle draped in little pale blue sheets and white lace, stood in the gentle sunlight streaming in through the softly billowing net curtains. In the cot, there lay a baby boy wrapped in a white crocheted blanket. He had bright, dark-chocolate eyes and thick wisps of black hair. A tiny pale hand broke out and reached for the ship that hovered above him from a wooden mobile…

Dressed in patent shoes, brown breeches and a white shirt, a five year-old boy ran along a gallery corridor. The air was alive with his light laughter. He flung himself into the outstretched arms of a smiling woman who shared his dark eyes and hair…

A quill scratched against paper. The harshness and rigidity of it was a reflection of the writer, a purse-lipped woman with her grey hair pulled into a tight bun.

"Latin is a terrible bore, Mrs Witherstone," huffed the young boy stood next to her. "When can I learn something useful, like Spanish?"

The quill stopped and tension seemed to build up in the tutor as it would in a coil. The child cringed in anticipation of the release…

The man's face was blotched with red and soaked with tears. His slumped shoulders shook with a heart-deep sob every so often, and his glazed blue eyes stared past his son.

The boy watched his father's wet lips move, but didn't hear the words. He had heard enough. Fresh tears streaked his pale face and glinted in his dark eyes. His gaze shifted to the open doorway behind where his father stood, to the bed within, to the lifeless woman with dark hair who lay on the white linen…

Gulls swooped through the air and their cries echoed off the cliffs. The grinning lad could taste the salt and fish with each breath he drew. Sunlight glittered on the tops of the deep blue waves behind the assortment of fine tall ships, worn fishing boats and little rowing boats that filled the harbour. Around him the dock was bustling with sailors, passengers and tradesmen, as he walked with fascination amongst nets of slippery silver-coloured fish, wooden crates of lobsters and crabs, and the large carcass of a shark. 

The short youngster pushed his way through the crowd to a ticket office.

"America."

He pulled a coin from his pocket and set it on the counter…

The rope was thick and ungainly in his hands, as it obstinately refused to tie properly. He took one hand away to wipe the sweat from his forehead and the whole thing tumbled undone to the deck.

"C'mon over 'ere, lad. Ol' William will show ye how," said an older man, motioning the lad over with a sun-bronzed hand…

The woman's face was like a garish painting. Chalk white with smears of pink over the cheeks, thick blue smudges above black-lashed eyes and bright red lips. Her tightly fitting yellow dress revealed the tops of her breasts. Rational thought left him, as she smiled and pushed her long blonde hair off her shoulders. In the golden lamplight, she was beautiful to him…

All the colours of the rainbow danced along the cut edges of the transparent oval stone. It was so dazzling in the midday sun that he had to screw up his eyes to look at it. Thin leaves made of gold had been fixed to its top.

"Would you be wanting a crystal pineapple, señor?" the seller asked him, hopefully…

He realised that he had never felt pain before, not real pain. Burning agony seared through his thigh, where the bullet had sunk deep into the flesh. Blood, hot and wet, flooded out of the hole and soaked first his trousers and then began to form a crimson puddle on the deck…

The wheel was firm in his hands, the wind strong in the black sails and the ship glided with ease through the sea under his guidance. Men followed his orders around him on the deck of the dark-coloured galleon and high above the rebellious and threatening Jolly Roger flew. He listened to every sound his ship made and felt every motion, wanting to get to know her completely. The young captain was in love…

In the gloomy corner of a tavern, two men spoke in hushed tones.

"And where would I find this treasure?" the young pirate captain inquired, lowering his tankard of rum.

"Buried on an island that can't be found 'cept by them that already know where it be," answered the rough old sailor, a conspiring twinkle in his single yellow eye…

"This is mutinous!" he cried, furiously.

His first mate grinned nastily at him. "That's exactly what this be, Jack. A mutiny."

The betrayed pirate captain stopped fighting against the crewmen that held him. His face became a mask of horror…

On the Jamaican cliff top, he stared at her in wonder. She understood. She knew what he had lost and what he needed. The breeze whipped up her long dark hair and pulled it away from her beautiful brown face…

"You seem somewhat familiar. Have I threatened you before?" the pirate captain asked, frowning at the lad at the end of his sword.

"I make a point of avoiding familiarity with pirates," the young man replied, disgustedly…

The pirate marvelled at the blood blossoming from his chest, as the bullet killed him. The man he had betrayed ten years ago finally had his revenge and watched silently as the mutineer fell to the ground, a green apple rolling out of his hand…

More than one set of hands pushed the captured pirate captain's back, sending him stumbling into the fort cell…

Dark-chocolate eyes snapped open. Instantly, they squinted against the glare of the rays shining in through the window and a stiff arm was lifted to protect them. Grunting with the effort, Captain Jack Sparrow used the prison's bars to pull himself to his feet. He stretched out the tight and cold muscles in his body, as he moved over to the window.

Jack stared out at what was perhaps the last dawn he would ever see. Red, yellow, gold and pink ribbons stretched out from the rapidly brightening horizon. The rain had stopped quite some time ago and the early heat of day had already drawn most of the moisture out of the ground.

The sun was rising, but on Captain Jack Sparrow it was setting.

A lump rose in his throat and he suddenly thrust his arm through the bars, reaching towards the sunrise. Wanting, wishing, yearning.

The unmistakable regimental rhythm of Navy footsteps sounded on the stone steps. The pirate captain jerked his hand back inside and dropped to the floor again. He drew up his knees and rested his arms on them, adopting a relaxed pose.

The soldiers arrived, but they paid little heed to him. Instead, they marching off down the corridor and around the corner to where the remains of Barbossa's crew were being kept.

Jack watched them return with the other pirates and take them up the stairs to be publicly hung.

"We'll be back for you soon," Gillette assured him, cheerily, as he paused outside the pirate captain's cell.

Jack smiled back with a hard grin that didn't get within an inch of his charcoal-lined eyes. His expression slid into a glare of immense dislike, as the Navy officer turned and followed his fellows up the steps.

"Saving the best till last," Captain Jack Sparrow muttered to himself, a dry smirk rising on his features.

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Author's ending note: 

This is the end of this collection of missing scenes, as what happens next is given screen time in the movie itself. However, I've written a short fic set after the film, which I will post soon - look out for it!


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